


Dancing on the Line of Morality

by KindaCrazy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindaCrazy/pseuds/KindaCrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets what he wants. And he goes to complicated measures to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing on the Line of Morality

Dancing on the Line of Morality

 

Sam Winchester’s eyes flutter closed, his long fingers twisting and pulling at the worn-through fabric of Dean’s favorite Zeppelin t-shirt. Sam breathes in heavily, inhaling the lingering scent of his big brother. It’s something of a comfort for the younger Winchester— knowing that the person he looks up to the most and admires the most had worn this shirt just a few hours ago.  
But, as Sam lays in bed, steadily breathing in Dean’s scent, the older Winchester is out with another girl doing God knows what. Just the thought of it makes Sam sick. Knowing that whatever Susie, Sally, Becky, or Brandi Dean’s with is touching him and kissing him.  
Sam can feel hatred for that girl bubbling up inside him, his body beginning to shake from the force of it. Sam spends the next hour or two— he can’t really be sure—trying to calm himself down, but only succeeding in making himself angrier and angrier.  
And Dean only adds fuel to the fire by bursting through the thin motel door, reeking of alcohol and fruity perfume.  
Dean, with whiskey on his breath, flops himself down next to his pretend-sleeping brother and crowds in behind him, “Saaaaaammy, wake up! Gotta tell ya ‘bout m’night!”  
Sam holds tight onto his pretend-sleeping and ignores Dean, forcing any and all thoughts of whatever was so mind-blowing that Dean just had to share out of his mind, also making sure that Dean’s t-shirt that he’d been clutching onto for dear life was well hidden underneath the sheets. And if Sam does say so himself, he is doin’ a pretty good job of keeping the aforementioned thoughts out of his head.  
Well, that is until the thing happened.  
“She was pretty, like you, Sammy. So friggin’ pretty.”  
As surprising as it may be, that wasn’t the thing. The thing happened next.  
The thing started when Dean heaved Sam onto his back, forcing the younger Winchester’s eyes to fly open, muttering a, “Knew you weren’t sleepin’,” to himself before pushing himself closer to his brother.  
“You stink like whiskey, De,” Sam groans, trying to push his brother away, but to no avail.  
And then the thing happened.  
“Had to keep bitin’ m’lip to keep quiet, Sammy,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear, pulling hard on his long hair to hold his brother in place.  
Sam’s eyes close briefly and he exhales heavily, willing himself to not get all hot and bothered because his brother is pulling on his hair just right and because Dean is breathing in his ear the way he likes. No, of course Sam isn’t turned on by his brother. Not at all.  
“But not ‘cause her parents were home, Sammy. Had to stay nice and quiet so I wouldn’t start sayin’ sm’one else’s name.”  
Sam stays silent, wondering why the hell he hasn’t pushed Dean away yet— but in the back of his mind, he knows why.  
“‘Cause in m’head, was chantin’ sm’one’s name like t’was goin’ outta style. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Crazy, right? Could barely keep it up thinkin’ ‘bout the girl, but when I started thinkin’ ‘bout havin’ m’baby brother under me— Just couldn’t stop. Wanted you so bad, Sammy.”  
As if Dean wasn’t dancing on the line of morality already, he just had to step on over that line by grabbing Sam’s hand and placing it directly over the zipper on his own jeans.  
“Feel that, Sammy? Feel how hard I am for you? I know it’s wrong, but I just want you so bad, Sammy. God, Sammy, wanna feel your hands on me.”  
Sam gulps hard. Sam can’t say he hasn’t thought about his brother like this. Well, he could, but he’d be lying. More and more often Sam’s been having dreams— very vivid dreams—about his brother. And more often than not, Sam wakes up after having creamed his pants, feeling the cooling mess on his crotch and rushing to the bathroom to clean himself before Dean wakes up.  
Sam for sure is going to blame this on being possessed or something supernatural in the morning, but Sam ever so slightly presses his hand down, adding pressure to Dean’s aching erection.  
Dean throws his head back and lets out a wall-crumbling moan, bucking his hips up into Sam’s hand.  
“Shit, Dean, you want it so bad, don’t you?” Sam says, feeling what seems like every ounce of blood in his body quickly rushing south.  
“Fuck yeah, baby boy. C’mon, Sammy, touch me. Really touch me,” Dean orders, gripping tighter at Sam’s hair, forcing a whine of pleasure out of the younger Winchester.  
Sam fumbles slightly, still apprehensive about doing this with his brother, but knowing that Dean is so hammered he probably won’t remember this in the morning anyway gives him a boost of confidence and he unbuttons and unzips Dean’s jeans, stuffing his hand inside. Sam feels like he might just come from the glorious noises falling from his brother’s lips alone, but amazingly doesn’t.  
Sam’s hand wrapped around Dean’s dick feels better than holding an ice cream cone when he was a kid did. It’s big and warm and hard and slippery from pre-come and it just feels right.  
Sam had never been with a man before, only girls. But he’s no stranger to pleasuring himself, so Sam decides to just go with it and touch Dean the way he would himself— And Dean doesn’t seem to mind one bit.  
“God, that’s good, baby. So good,” Dean moans, thrusting his hips up to fuck into Sam’s hand.  
“De, gonna make me come just from those sounds you’re makin’. So hot,” Sam pants, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him quicker than he’d like to admit.  
Sam’s hand starts to speed up, his hand jerking Dean erratically, signaling that his impending orgasm was going to happen whether Sam wanted it to or not.  
“Do it, baby boy. Come for me,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear, and that’s all it takes to have Sam coming completely undone, coating the inside of his boxers in his own release.  
Dean follows shortly after, painting Sam’s bare chest and hand with sticky, white streams.  
“Dean, I have never consciously come in my pants before, just thought you should know that.”  
Dean chuckles to himself and snuggles underneath the thin motel blankets next to his brother.  
Sam closes his eyes, ignoring the hardening come both inside his pants and all over his chest and hand in favor of getting some shut-eye.  
But right before Sam feels sleep take over, he hears something rather peculiar. A very sober sounding Dean. This is strange because five minutes ago, Dean was blackout drunk. Or, at least Sam thought he was.  
“Had I known all I had to do was pretend to be plastered to get you to sleep with me, I’d’a done it a lot sooner, Sammy,” Dean laughs, and then Sam’s world goes black.  
Sam’s breathing evens out, indicating that he’s sleeping soundly, letting Dean reminisce over the last few hours of his life. Pretending to get completely shit-faced at a bar, pretending to go home with a girl, going home to brag to his brother about said girl, his brother giving him the orgasm of a lifetime. All in all, a good night for Dean Winchester.


End file.
